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12-04-16, 00:49
I wasn't sure which was the best forum to post this as it doesn't seem to fit any of them 100%. But I think it does fit this one to some extent.
My anxiety is hard to pin down. Sometimes it feels like a general feeling of unease or fear, like I can't sit still or concentrate, but at the same time there'll be nothing specific making me worry. My only worry is the feeling of unease. At other times, it's more physical. Some physical aspects don't bother me, while others get to me a little. Occasional I'll feel derealised and/or emotionally flat, which is really frightening but happening less often and, I suspect, linked to my medication. Occasionally I'll feel a certain symptom and falls under the health anxiety bracket - for example, I was in a lot of abdominal/bladder/groin/testicular pain last week and didn't know what it was or how it could be linked to anxiety. But it went away. It definitely had a psychosomatic element.
But I've realised that holding all this together - the umbrella under which all this resides - is a fear of the end. A fear of death, of the loss of loved ones, of the loss of my own life, of suffering, of pain, of the passing of time, of the last time I'll experience something I love. I feel like my brain's been invaded by existential thoughts.
My doctor has me down as a suicide risk - I know this because I caught a glimpse of her computer screen. SUICIDE RISK: HIGH. I keep telling her and my therapist that I'm not suicidal. Far from it. The only point I leaned even a little towards suicide was immediately after my first panic attack when I didn't know what it was and why I couldn't get over it. I felt so ill and was convinced I was dying. But I love life. I adore it. I've wasted too much of it on worry and awkwardness and social unease and expecting the worst, but I still love it. I was in Iceland in February - let me tell you, it was worth being born just to see what I saw there. In the last three years I've had new friends come into my life who have changed everything for the better. They even go out of their way to tell me how much I mean to them. I'm so lucky. I love being alive - even now with anxiety, feeling faint, nauseous, fearful and not like myself, I'm still happy. Somehow.
But time marches on, and I'm so scared. I look at the lives of some of the people my mum and dad socialise with who are in their 60s and 70s and they have the time of their lives. Even the ones with health issues. I've never known my dad more relaxed than since he entered his 60s. Even my mum, who has multiple sclerosis, diabetes and has had depression, has never seemed as content as the last few years. It's like her and my dad have fallen in love all over again. I'm terrified of turning 32! I'm so scared of what might kill me - or rather, how I'll suffer when it comes. I just wish we didn't have to suffer. I wish this whole thing wasn't finite. If I could find God, maybe that would help, but it's not going to happen and I certainly don't want to get into a discussion of that nature.
Anyway, I'll go back to planning my trip to Morocco this summer. I'm sure it'll be life affirming and worthwhile. Thanks for reading and I apologise if this doesn't seem to belong here or feel positive enough. I'm not looking to bring anyone down. I just think this is the root of my anxiety. I'm scared of the passage of time, of my own body and mind's eventual demise and of the finality of my existence.
My anxiety is hard to pin down. Sometimes it feels like a general feeling of unease or fear, like I can't sit still or concentrate, but at the same time there'll be nothing specific making me worry. My only worry is the feeling of unease. At other times, it's more physical. Some physical aspects don't bother me, while others get to me a little. Occasional I'll feel derealised and/or emotionally flat, which is really frightening but happening less often and, I suspect, linked to my medication. Occasionally I'll feel a certain symptom and falls under the health anxiety bracket - for example, I was in a lot of abdominal/bladder/groin/testicular pain last week and didn't know what it was or how it could be linked to anxiety. But it went away. It definitely had a psychosomatic element.
But I've realised that holding all this together - the umbrella under which all this resides - is a fear of the end. A fear of death, of the loss of loved ones, of the loss of my own life, of suffering, of pain, of the passing of time, of the last time I'll experience something I love. I feel like my brain's been invaded by existential thoughts.
My doctor has me down as a suicide risk - I know this because I caught a glimpse of her computer screen. SUICIDE RISK: HIGH. I keep telling her and my therapist that I'm not suicidal. Far from it. The only point I leaned even a little towards suicide was immediately after my first panic attack when I didn't know what it was and why I couldn't get over it. I felt so ill and was convinced I was dying. But I love life. I adore it. I've wasted too much of it on worry and awkwardness and social unease and expecting the worst, but I still love it. I was in Iceland in February - let me tell you, it was worth being born just to see what I saw there. In the last three years I've had new friends come into my life who have changed everything for the better. They even go out of their way to tell me how much I mean to them. I'm so lucky. I love being alive - even now with anxiety, feeling faint, nauseous, fearful and not like myself, I'm still happy. Somehow.
But time marches on, and I'm so scared. I look at the lives of some of the people my mum and dad socialise with who are in their 60s and 70s and they have the time of their lives. Even the ones with health issues. I've never known my dad more relaxed than since he entered his 60s. Even my mum, who has multiple sclerosis, diabetes and has had depression, has never seemed as content as the last few years. It's like her and my dad have fallen in love all over again. I'm terrified of turning 32! I'm so scared of what might kill me - or rather, how I'll suffer when it comes. I just wish we didn't have to suffer. I wish this whole thing wasn't finite. If I could find God, maybe that would help, but it's not going to happen and I certainly don't want to get into a discussion of that nature.
Anyway, I'll go back to planning my trip to Morocco this summer. I'm sure it'll be life affirming and worthwhile. Thanks for reading and I apologise if this doesn't seem to belong here or feel positive enough. I'm not looking to bring anyone down. I just think this is the root of my anxiety. I'm scared of the passage of time, of my own body and mind's eventual demise and of the finality of my existence.